He made them crouch who scorn'd a Prince's sway,
And forc'd them, like dull slaves, his power obey.
Of _Israel_, and of _Juda_'s Tribe you spring,
A Lion is the Ensign of a King,
Rouse up your self, in mildness sleep no more,
And make them tremble at your princely roar:
Appear like _Jove_ with Thunder in your hand,
And let the Slaves your power understand;
Strike but the sinning Princes Down to Hell,
The rest will worship you, and ne'r rebel.

Thus these rash Men with their bad Counsels strove,
To turn to hate good _Amazia_'s Love.
A Prince to Mercy naturally inclin'd, }
Not apt to fear, nor of a Jealous Mind, }
Thought no Man e'r against his Life design'd, }
But these with Art did dangers represent,
And Plots they fram'd the People never meant.
Each Mole hill they a Mountain did create,
And sought to fright him with his Fathers Fate.
_Hushai_ at last was to a Prison sent,
As a false Traitor to the Government.
Loud murmurs then possest the troubled _Jews_,
Who were surprised at the fatal News;
His Wisdom they believed their chief support,
Against the evil Instruments at Court;
Nor, by his Actions, did they ever find,
He bore a Trait'rous, or a factious Mind:
And now they thought themselves expos'd to all
The Arts, and Plots of the hid friends to _Baal_.